


We Could Have Danced All Night

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Dancing, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just another night at the Hanged Man, until a ghost from Anders' past waltzed in and swept him off his feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could Have Danced All Night

When the man first strode into the Hanged Man, looking all uncomfortable and unhappy the way he did, Anders thought he'd seen a ghost. He looked just the same as Anders remembered: shoulder length, dark hair, tied away from his face with braids on either side, the same bow strapped to his back, that silly bit of hair he still kept above his chin. 

Anders never expected to see Nathaniel Howe - his long ago companion, friend, lover - again after leaving the Wardens. But now, here he was, standing awkwardly by the doorway of the Hanged Man and glancing around the place with a look that blended curiosity and revulsion.

"And just what is that tall, handsome thing doing in this dump?" Isabela's voice purred behind him, and Anders realized she was talking about Nathaniel. 

He turned to her and with a wry smile told her, "He's off limits."

Isabela said something pouty, but Anders had already turned back to watch Nathaniel, and blocked out everything she said. He took a long drink from his mug, tried to ignore the turmoil in his head that alcohol caused, and eyed his former companion warily.

His first impulse had of course been to stand tall and call the man over, to catch up over mugs of cheap, bitter ale and pretend that all the things that kept them apart these long years had never happened. But a voice in the back of his head warned that perhaps Nathaniel was here to bring him back, to face the long-avoided punishment for his crimes. Perhaps there were other Wardens waiting outside to help with his apprehension. Perhaps they had just planned to kill him.

But, this was Nate, one of his oldest friends. He wouldn't be involved in something like that, would he? 

Anders watched closely as Nathaniel approached the bar and demanded the bartender's attention. Corff assessed the warden warily, but took his coin and handed him a mug. Nathaniel took it and regarded it with that same look of curiosity and disgust, then threw his head back and took a long swig.

Damn it all to the Void, Anders finally thought, and followed suit. He slammed his empty mug on the table, ignored the questions of Varric, Merrill, Isabela, and Hawke, and strode over to the bar. Halfway there, Nathaniel looked up in his direction. Under the intensity of that stare, Anders had a sudden urge to melt himself through the floor, but kept walking, and put on his most convincing air of confidence, even sparing a coy grin as he neared the other man.

He leaned his elbow against the bar and put on his best seductive face. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at him over his mug. Anders smiled at himself, then cut to the point. "What are you doing here, Nate?" The other man put down his glass very slowly, never taking his eyes off the mage.

"Stroud told me he'd seen you here and I just," Nathaniel paused and took a deep breath. "I had to see you for myself."

Anders regarded him carefully, then broke into a wide grin. "You missed me you bloody bastard, admit it!"

Nathaniel shook his head and allowed a small smile. "It hasn't been the same since you... left." There was an awkward pause, and the playful mood from only a moment before was shattered. Both men knew what had really happened, and it hadn't been as simple as Anders just leaving.

"Well," Anders said, laughing a bit uncomfortably. "That's because none of the new recruits were as pretty or talented as me."

"Of course," came Nathaniel's smooth reply, and just like that, the moment had passed.

"Do you want to grab a table, move somewhere a bit quieter?" Anders asked, jerking his head towards an empty spot in the corner.

Nathaniel took another drink, dropped his empty mug on the bar, and called the bartender over for a refill. He looked questioningly at Anders, but the mage waved a hand. He didn't need another drink. Nathaniel nodded, and tipped his now full mug in the direction of the lone table by the fireplace.

Anders happily followed, and may or may not have glanced back at the table of companions who were shamelessly staring, and may or may not have given a wave and a smile to Isabela. He also may or may not have pointed out this particular table to Nathaniel because it was the only one in the room that was out of sight of Hawke's merry band of misfits.

He took a seat across from Nate, who was slouched in his chair, looking misunderstood and tortured. Anders leaned in close, and asked quietly, "You're not here to take me back, are you?"

Nathaniel looked straight into his eyes and shook his head, and took another drink. Anders let out a heavy breath he didn't know he was holding.

"So why are you really here then?"

Nathaniel wrinkled his brows at the mage. "Is it so strange that I discovered an old friend was not dead as I'd believed, and that I then had to see him for myself?" Anders raised an eyebrow, and Nathaniel frowned. "I'm hurt."

"The always-do-good noble Warden is surprised that the dangerous, wanted apostate is questioning why he showed up out of the blue after all these years?"

"I did not come all the way to Kirkwall for you. The Wardens have business here." He raised a hand to call over the tavern girl and get another mug. He gave Anders another look, and this time the mage shrugged.

"Why not?" he sighed, and in a moment Norah was back with two drinks.

"I can't tell you about that, with you not being a Warden anymore and all." He paused and raised his mug to drink. "But I can tell you, that the reason I'm in this stinking pit of a tavern, drinking this foul, cheap ale, is because I wanted to see you."

Anders couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. "You really did miss me."

Nathaniel conceded a smile. "That's what I said."

And all at once the tension that had been hovering in the air around Anders since Nathaniel had first walked through the door had dissipated. Anders believed him. His worries were for naught. There was no conspiracy, no ambush. He reached over and clapped his friend on the shoulder, and suddenly there was too much to talk about, too much to catch up on. It had been so long since they’d last spoken, Anders wasn’t even sure where to start.  
"Did Surana ever come back?" Anders finally asked, genuinely curious.

Nathaniel shook his head. "No. No, I haven't seen her since, well..."

"Since she left us to fend for ourselves while she chased after true love across the sea?" 

"She deserved it, after everything she'd done," Nathaniel said simply. "There's only so much a person can give, and she gave a lot."

Anders nodded in agreement. He never begrudged the commander for leaving when she did, but he couldn't help but feel a bit resentful. His life with the Wardens had gone to nug shit after she left. 

As if Nathaniel could read his thoughts, he was suddenly leaning over the table, and the look on his face was so pained, if Anders hadn't known Nate so well he might've been worried the man would start sobbing all over the scratched wood of the table. Or maybe he was worried about that anyway.

"I'm so sorry, Anders," he whispered, and his voice sounded so broken Anders ached to listen to him. "About what happened with Rolan, about everything with Rolan, I never wanted - I never agreed with - I tried to argue but -"

"Nate," Anders urged softly, "I never blamed you." But Nathaniel was looking hard at the table now, and the knuckles wrapped around his mug were white.

He let out a long breath, and sat up straight again. "I'm sorry for," he waved his hand and sighed again, "that, just now. I'd been holding that in so long I guess I couldn't stop it all from pouring out."

"Blame it on the drink and forget it ever happened," Anders said with a smile, trying very hard to forget that Nathaniel Howe had just dropped all his emotional guards on the table in front of him. This was not the way he'd thought this conversation would go.

Thankfully, however, right at that very moment, some drunken fool on the other side of the tavern began playing a fiddle. Well, the fool was either drunk or very bad, or maybe both, but the rest of the room didn't seem to mind, and soon there was drumming on the tables and out of tune singing, and it was a right big party in the Hanged Man. Just what the healer ordered.

Anders stood before the archer, waved his arms in an exaggerated bow, and folded one arm behind his back while extending the other to the seated man before him. "Ser?" he asked seductively, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow in reply. Anders tried to pout, but he couldn't suppress his smile.

"Come on, dance with me, Nate! You probably haven't let yourself have any fun since I left, have you?" The look Nathaniel gave him answered that question, and Anders was not going to let this man leave his presence without loosening up, especially after all these awkward moments between them.

With a heavy sigh and another deep swig of ale, Nathaniel took his hand and stood with him. The music was bright and lively, and people were already clearing a space and beginning to dance. Anders tugged him out into the middle of the floor, then dropped his hand and began to dance.

He kicked his feet up and clapped his hands to the rhythm of the song, and spun circles around his reluctant friend. Nathaniel watched him with a smile, and Anders could tell he was trying very hard to look annoyed.

"Live a little!" he told his friend as he slipped his arm around Nate's and locked their elbows together. Anders kept moving and dancing, and Nathaniel had no choice but to join in.

The noble took his steps slowly and precisely at first, but Anders was having none of that. He moved quicker, keeping tight hold of Nathaniel's arm and forcing him to speed up to keep pace. But Nathaniel was far more interested in his dance partner than in the dance itself. He kept his eyes on Anders, watching how the mage moved his feet and his hips, and all sorts of familiar feelings were stirring deep in his gut.

And then all at once, the music changed. The song was gentle and slow, and a few couples were gluing themselves together to glide around the dance floor in pairs, although rather clumsily, since most of them were drunk and not very good dancers. Anders shot a look to the corner of the room where Hawke and company were seated, and the grin and thumbs up that Hawke gave him let him know that she definitely had everything to do with this. Ah well, might as well enjoy it.

He took a step towards Nathaniel, and he felt a flutter in his stomach when the other man looked at him that he never thought he'd feel again. Anders wrapped one arm around Nathaniel's shoulder, and took the archer's hand in his. Nathaniel arched a brow, but conceded, and placed his other hand on Anders' hip. The mage then proceeded to waltz around the room, towing Nate along for the ride, in an exaggerated version of what he assumed was what fancy noble ball dancing was like.

Nathaniel gave him an incredulous look. "Anders, what are you doing?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I don't actually know how to dance?"

Nathaniel sighed. "Just, follow my lead. Step when I step, and put your feet - yes, like that."

He gracefully guided the couple around their small corner of the room, his grip on Anders' shoulders tightening when the mage tried moving in the wrong direction.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Anders beamed at his dancing partner, and Nathaniel rolled his eyes and tried to stifle a grin.

It was almost surreal, Anders thought. To have gone so long without any kind of contact, and now to be dancing together, holding each other again, in a seedy Lowtown bar. Once, Anders had been closer to this man in his arms than anyone else. Once, he had thought himself in love with the man. But that was long ago, and he'd never thought to feel those things again. But here, among these crowds of dancing, singing strangers, happy sounds and distractions and too much drink, he could almost pretend all those years apart had never happened. He could almost pretend he was still the man he'd been so long ago.

He pulled Nathaniel closer to him, and lowered his head to rest against the other man's shoulder. Nathaniel leaned into his embrace, and rested his cheek against the top of the mage's head. Anders relaxed against Nathaniel's body and breathed in deep, inhaling the man's familiar scent. He smelled just the same as Anders remembered, like salt and wind and leather.

The fluttering in Anders' stomach sank lower in his gut, and morphed into a slow burn. He clutched Nathaniel closer to him and exhaled a shaky breath. "Would you like to get a room?"

He could feel Nathaniel smile against the top of his head. "In what world would I not?"

The moment the door was closed, Anders' back was pressed against it. The stronger man's hands cupped his face and pulled him into a deep kiss. Anders clutched at Nathaniel's shoulders, and was helpless to resist as the rogue poured his long-restrained emotions into the kiss, which was at once wild and desperate and caring, and full of all the things he'd never said.

Finally he pulled away, hands still framing the mage's face, and looked into his eyes, and Anders saw his own need mirrored there. The mage slid his hands down Nathaniel's sides and stopped at his hips to pull him even closer, and leaned forward to capture his lips in another kiss.

Nathaniel let loose a soft groan against his long ago lover's lips as their bodies pressed together, and every movement created a delicious friction that set his skin on fire. And suddenly this wasn't enough. He needed more. He needed to feel that familiar burn of skin against skin, and he needed it now.

He pulled back and Anders looked distressed for a moment, before Nathaniel was ripping at the straps of his armor and shedding his clothes like they were ablaze. Anders grinned and tried to follow suit, but he wasn’t quite quick enough. Nathaniel was on him in another moment, tearing his robes off and dumping them unceremoniously on the floor next to his own. They were both still clad in trousers, but they could deal with that a moment from now. At this moment, they needed to feel each other’s skin or risk combustion.

Anders pulled Nathaniel close again, and this time his hands traced familiar lines down the other man’s back. Nathaniel’s hand snaked around the back of Anders’ neck, and his other graced lightly on the mage’s lower back. He pressed gently, pulling their hips together, and Anders’ hands fluttered across his ribcage and came to rest on his chest.

Anders leaned forward to press his forehead against Nate’s, and the archer saw a wicked look in the mage’s eyes that was all too familiar. Anders grinned and pressed his lips against Nathaniel’s, and then his hands started to move. 

He trailed one hand down Nathaniel’s stomach, savoring the way the muscles rippled beneath his fingertips. He slipped his fingers just beneath the edge of Nate’s trousers, until he felt the first ticklings of hair, and pressed down firmly. Nathaniel fell against the other man, inhaling deep as he recovered his balance. Two could play at this game.

Nathaniel kissed along Anders’ jaw to his ear. He sucked the mage’s earlobe into his mouth and bit lightly, then let out a hot breath on his neck.

"I remember how much you loved to hear me talk to you." Nathaniel's voice was rough and hoarse in Anders' ear, and it sent a shiver of excitement down his spine and a flutter sinking low in his stomach. "I see you still enjoy it."

Anders could only let out a long, shaky breath in reply. Nathaniel chuckled darkly, and kissed a trail down the mage's neck to suckle that spot just above his collar bone that had always driven him wild. Anders clutched desperately at the other man's shoulders, and Nathaniel was not disappointed in this response. They'd both changed beyond measure since their years together at Vigil's Keep, but this was still the same. They still knew all the ways to make the other writhe and groan in pleasure, and that knowledge would keep them tethered together when nothing else could.

Their lips crashed together again, and now the trousers were too restricting, and their hands were at their laces, fumbling to undo them while still pressed together. Finally, for the sake of speed, they tore away from each other just long enough to kick off boots and remove the offending trousers and smalls. In the next instant they were tangled together again, touching every inch of skin they could reach, lips locked together like they were each drawing breath from the other.

They stumbled toward the bed, and Nathaniel's legs collided with the mattress first. He toppled backward and Anders followed him onto the bed, never breaking contact. Anders moved his legs to straddle the rogue, and continued exploring the other man’s body with his fingertips, discovering old familiar scars and a few new ones.

Nathaniel tangled his fingers in Anders’ hair, pulling it loose from its leather tie. He used to love running his hands through the mage’s hair, and was delighted to find it as soft as he remembered. He fisted his hands and tugged, pulling Anders even deeper into their kiss. The mage groaned softly, then pulled away. He had plans, delicious plans.

He slipped off the bed and braced himself on the floor, and began kissing a slow trail down Nathaniel’s chest. The rogue sucked in a deep breath, and let his hands wander to the mage’s neck and shoulders. He knew exactly where Anders’ talented mouth was headed, and the knowledge made him shudder in anticipation.

Anders felt his reaction and grinned against his skin. He slid his hands down Nathaniel’s thighs as he kissed lower and lower, and settled in the nook where his thigh met his body to lavish more attention. Nathaniel let his eyes slip closed and enjoyed the sensations Anders was eliciting with his lips and tongue. His hands travelled back to tangle in Anders’ hair again, and Anders slid his tongue along the length of Nathaniel’s shaft. 

Nate let out a shaky breath as Anders repeated the motion, then swirled his tongue around the tip. Nathaniel’s grip tightened in the mage’s hair, and Anders decided the time for teasing was over. He slipped his lips over the head, then took the entire length in his mouth. Nathaniel hissed and arched into the other man’s mouth, but Anders pushed his hips back down against the bed, and began to move his head up and down.

Nathaniel groaned, and Anders switched tactics. He wrapped one hand around Nathaniel’s base and began pumping slowly. His lips rose to encircle the head again, and he flicked his tongue over all the right spots. Nathaniel’s breath caught in his throat, and now his hands were fisted in Anders’ hair, and his hips would not stay put on the mattress. Soon, Nathaniel felt a coiling in his belly, but he wasn’t ready for that.

“Not yet,” Nathaniel breathed, and tugged gently on Anders’ hair.

Anders pulled back with a grin, and followed Nate back onto the bed, where he crashed his lips against the other man’s again. Their mouths parted simultaneously, and their tongues entwined in a familiar dance. Nathaniel’s hands crept down to grip Anders’ hips and pull him closer to grind against him, and both men groaned into their kiss at the contact.

 

Anders was aching with desire. The feel of Nathaniel's skin, the sounds he made, the taste of him all had his mouth watering for more. To share something so intimate after so long apart, to feel Nathaniel's body reacting to his touch again, it set the need in his belly ablaze, and if he didn't do something soon, it would consume him.

So he reached between their bodies and cast a spell he hadn't thought of in ages, and wrapped his now lubricated hand around Nathaniel's shaft. Nate arched into his touch, and a hand moved to the back of Anders' neck.

Anders broke their kiss and pulled away to look into Nate’s eyes as he guided him to his entrance. What he saw there would have scared him once, but now it only stirred up feelings he didn’t want right now, so he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Nathaniel’s instead. He inhaled sharply as he started to lower himself, and Nathaniel’s grip on his neck and hip tightened almost painfully. He lowered himself until he’d taken his lover’s entire length, and held himself there, breathing heavily against Nathaniel’s lips.

It had been far too long since he’d been with someone this way, and his body needed a moment to accommodate the intrusion. Nathaniel kissed him softly, and moved a hand from his hip to gently rub his lower back. Anders opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, and soon the fires inside him were blazing again. The discomfort was forgotten, and he began to move.

He rose slowly, brought himself up until only the tip remained inside, then lowered himself again. His movements were tortuously slow, and Nathaniel tried to thrust up to meet him, but Anders would settle atop him and refuse to move until he held still. And then he would roll his hips to grind against him, and continue his torture.

The pleasure was exquisite, but it was driving Nathaniel mad. It wasn’t enough, it could never be enough, and finally he just couldn't take it anymore. He wrapped his arms tight around his lover, and rose so Anders was sitting in his lap. He captured Anders' lips in a fierce kiss, and the next moment he had Anders on his back on the bed, still impaled.

"Oh ho," Anders laughed. "Someone's getting aggressive."

"You haven't begun to see aggressive tonight, mage," Nathaniel replied darkly, and thrust hard.

Anders moaned, and Nathaniel thrust again, and began his own rhythm. His pace wasn’t much faster than Anders’ had been, but each thrust was hard and strong, and Anders’ whole body shook each time their hips met.

And then all at once, Nathaniel was pounding furiously into him. Anders’ hands had travelled to the other man’s chest, and now Nathaniel was ripping them from his body to pin them against the mattress on either side of the mage’s head. His eyes drilled into Anders’ as his body jerked with each powerful thrust. The mage’s mouth fell open and moans and gasps and incoherent mumblings poured out. Nathaniel leaned forward to nibble on his neck, and then his deep, gravelly voice was in his ear.

“You love this, don’t you?”

Anders could only moan.

“No one has fucked you this good since you were last with me, have they?”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he shook his head in response.

“That’s what I thought,” Nathaniel growled, and then his lips were crashing against Anders’ mouth in a painful kiss. The noble sucked his lower lip into his mouth and bit not gently, and Anders groaned. Nathaniel pulled away from the kiss and pressed his forehead against the mage's, and removed his hands from Anders’ wrists in favor of running them all along his lover's body.

And then Nathaniel changed the angle of his hips, and he was suddenly hitting that spot with every thrust, and Anders couldn't stop himself from crying out each time. It was all he could do to desperately cling to Nate and ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through him. 

The rogue's rough hands came to rest on Anders' hips, and he pulled him into each thrust. He was nearing his end, and his control was starting to slip. His rhythm was growing erratic, and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. He felt Anders' fingers rake across his back, and he was undone.

Nathaniel pulled his lover's body flush against his, and buried his face against the other man's neck as his orgasm took him. He shuddered as Anders held him, and savored the closeness he felt to the man beneath him. When the final waves of pleasure had left him, he pulled himself up to press a chaste kiss against his lover's lips. Anders wrapped his arms around Nathaniel's neck, but Nate had to pull away to catch his breath.

Because while he may be spent for now, Anders' pleasure was far from over.

Anders apparently hadn’t realized this yet, because he made a small noise of disapproval when Nathaniel pulled out of him and ended their kiss. He opened his mouth to protest, but forgot what he was going to say when skilled fingers played down his torso.

“What’s this?” he asked coyly.

“Did you think I was going to leave you in this state?” Nathaniel wrapped his fingers around Anders’ length and gave him an experimental stroke.

Anders grinned. “I’d certainly hoped not.”

“Then allow me to please you,” Nathaniel replied seductively, and pressed his lips to Anders’ collar bone. He began stroking Anders with a slow, lazy rhythm, and the mage groaned appreciatively.

Nathaniel slid down the Anders’ body to settle between his legs. He tightened his grip, and Anders sighed and tilted his hips forward. Nathaniel smiled and leaned forward to take him into his mouth. He heard his lover gasp, and then let out a strangled moan as he pressed his tongue along his length. All the while, Nathaniel never took his eyes from the mage.

He watched, enraptured, as Anders writhed under his touch. The mage’s hair was mused and damp from sweat, and his hands were clutching wildly at the sheets of the bed. He was beautiful, Nathaniel thought, and all he wanted in the world at that moment was to give this man pleasure.

He slipped a finger inside of him and curled it to hit that special spot, and the mage groaned and arched his back. Nathaniel could tell he was close to his end, and he sped his ministrations. With a final low moan, Anders shuddered and came. Nathaniel gladly drank all he offered, and only stopped his stroking when he was sure his lover was spent.

He crawled back up to settle against Anders, who was struggling to catch his breath.

“Mm,” the mage sighed, and wrapped an arm around Nate. The rogue relaxed against him, and exhaustion finally set in.

He wondered if maybe he should go, but the temptation to stay curled up in Anders’ arms was too great, and he was content to lay there a bit longer, enveloped in the familiar scent and warmth of the man in his arms.

Anders couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content, or so close to another person. “You should pay me surprise visits more often,” he sighed happily. Nathaniel stiffened beside him.

"I had worried you’d turn me away, that you wouldn’t see me. I spent so long being furious with myself, I imagined you’d feel the same. I felt like I'd failed you, as your comrade. As your friend,” Nathaniel said softly, and Anders tightened his grip around the other man.

“What happened wasn’t your fault,” Anders told him. “The blame lies solely with me.”

"No, we should have said something sooner. I should have said something sooner. We all knew what it was, when Rolan showed up. We all knew the Templars had sent him to watch you, but no one said a blighted thing about it. And I thought it had killed you." Nathaniel's jaw was tight, and Anders didn’t know what to say to him.

There was an awkward stretch of silence, until Nathaniel sighed and shook his head.

"All I'd hoped to do was apologize, and I made a blubbering mess of it," Nathaniel finally said.

"Perhaps next time you should skip the drinking and go straight for the sex," Anders helpfully advised.

"Ah, always thinking practically."

"Did you just make a joke at my expense?"

"Of course not. I was admiring your straightforwardness."

"Oh, good. I was beginning to worry you may have finally found a sense of humor."

"Never."

Anders chuckled lightly, and they lay together in far more comfortable silence after that. For a few blessed moments, Anders could almost pretend things could be the way they used to, but then he felt the muscles in his lover's stomach tightening, and his chest started to rise from the bed. 

No, he thought desperately, Nathaniel was not going to leave yet. He pressed his weight against the other man's chest, preventing him from rising more, and looked up into the other man's eyes. Nathaniel's face held that blank, controlled expression he put on when he wanted to keep himself locked up, and Anders' heart fluttered in fear.

"Don't go yet," he entreated. "Stay with me tonight."

Nathaniel's features softened, and he looked at Anders with something that could have been love once. "Anything you wish," he answered, and kissed Anders softly, and he was breaking down inside with all the memories that came rushing back. But he forced his feelings down, and made himself smile. He was going to cherish these remaining hours with his Howe. The regrets could come later.

They pressed against each other, hands wandering and lips meeting once more. The fires built slowly this time, but burned just as hot.  

 

In the morning, Anders awoke to find Nathaniel already up and pulling on his trousers. Anders rose to sit up in bed, and Nathaniel spared him a brief glance and a nod in greeting. Anders only stared. All the intimacy of the previous night had vanished when the sun rose.

"Will you be in Kirkwall long?" Nathaniel stayed focused on lacing his trousers, and Anders knew the answer to his question.

"I still belong to the Wardens," the rogue finally said.

"Of course, I didn't mean," Anders trailed off. He wasn't sure what he meant anymore. Nate was pulling on the last of his armor now, and he was going to be gone any moment.

Anders watched silently as Nathaniel tied his final straps and pulled on his boots, and didn’t say a word even as Nate walked slowly to the door.

But Nathaniel paused there. His fingers tightened on the handle, and he turned to look at Anders over his shoulder. When their gazes met, all the breath rushed out of Anders' chest. Nathaniel's eyes were full of loss and emptiness and longing, for the way things once were, for the way they had once been. Anders knew, because he felt the same things in the pit of his chest.

"I'm the Warden-Commander now. I hadn't told you," Nathaniel said, sounding a bit unsure of himself. "Know you can always count me as a friend. If you ever decide to leave this place, if you ever need somewhere to go."

Anders nodded. He knew what Nathaniel was saying. "Thank you," he said simply, and meant it.

Nathaniel nodded. He twisted the handle and opened the door, and gave Anders one last sorrowful look, and then he was gone.

Anders waited a long time before he stood from bed and began dressing himself. Nathaniel had offered him guaranteed forgiveness for his crimes, and a welcome return to the Wardens, at least on the surface.

But their time together the previous night had only convinced Anders that life was gone from him forever. He could never go back, no matter what strings Nathaniel pulled. Things would never be the same for him there.

He had Warden blood on his hands, a monster in his mind, and he didn’t deserve Nate’s forgiveness. 

Besides, there was still work to be done in Kirkwall.


End file.
